OH, SAINT THOMAS, HEAL ME OF MY CYNICISM

 

September 22 is the feast of Saint Thomas of Villanova, a Spanish saint who was born in 1488, four years before Christopher Columbus discovered America. Thomas’s parents were noted for their charity and gave him a stellar practical example. 

As a child, Thomas went naked because he gave away his fine clothes to those who had none. Then, as an Augustinian friar he became noted for similarly dramatic alms-giving. He gave away his inheritance to poverty stricken people who were unmarried a.k.a. “the poor virgins”. 

But God forgive me, I bristled when I read the accounts of his generosity to those far less fortunate than he. Without wanting to, I found myself involuntarily feeling nauseous and begging of myself, “Do you really know his good deeds were true?”

Throughout my life, I’ve just been too scarred by people who protest their goodness in public, but in private are some of the stingiest people you’d ever encounter.  I knew mothers of large families who prided themselves on being “charitable” while their children went hungry and neglected and often developed mental health problems.

Many years ago, I gave a lot to a charity and later found out the success rates were wildly embellished. 

Then there are people - fantastic humanitarians - who while alive have a reputation as being do-gooders, but in death people come forward to give the other side of the story.

I’m not saying Thomas of Villanova is not a saint, perish the thought! His standing as a truly great philanthropist cannot be undermined that easily; he gave to so many people in so many different situations that in Spain of the 1500s there were myriad witnesses to his heart of gold. 

As I overcome my cynicism, I acknowledge he had a genuine love for his brothers and sisters, who had fallen on hard times. This isn’t just my wishful thinking. It took 103 years to decide upon his canonization, and at that time every aspect of his life was pored over. 

The process of “the devil’s advocate” actively looked for reasons and witnesses who would argue against his sanctity.  This forensic method was later abrogated, but saints whose sainthood was proved by it have a special status in history; the dirt finding mission into their lives found nothing to hold against them. 

Thomas of Villanova died at 67, in a straw bed that had to be borrowed back from the poor person to whom he had given it as a gift. 

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The classic painting of Thomas of Villanova was executed by Murillo.